


Freaks Like Us Gotta Stick Together

by Assassin_J



Series: desmond is trans and also it's protocreed sometimes [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed, ProtoCreed - Fandom, [PROTOTYPE]
Genre: Angst and Comfort, Developing Relationship, I'm sorry but it turned into smut, Inspired By Tumblr, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Sci-fi Sex, Trans Male Character, Written quickly, a weird method of mutual masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4419122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assassin_J/pseuds/Assassin_J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm tired of pretending to be someone I'm not." Desmond's voice cracked into that higher pitch he hated, that goddamn feminine voice he worked so hard to mask. "It's too hard. I can't do it. But I can't be Denise either. I hate living as her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheWritingMustache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingMustache/gifts).



> inspired by kel and mark on tumblr

"Infect me."

Alex jolted his head up. There, standing before him, was Desmond. His clothes were disheveled and his eyes were leaking. "What," Alex asked, thinking he'd misheard, hoping for clarity with a repetition.

"I said 'infect me'."

"...I don't get it."

Desmond wiped his forearm across his eyes. "It's not a fucking joke."

_Something is wrong._ Alex stood in one fluid motion and took hold of Desmond's shoulder. "Why would you-"

"I'm tired of pretending to be someone I'm not." Desmond's voice cracked into that higher pitch he hated, that goddamn feminine voice he worked so hard to mask. "It's too hard. I can't do it. But I can't be Denise either. I hate living as her."

Alex gripped Desmond's shoulder harder and stared straight into his eyes. "I won't do it."

"You won't **help me**?"

"I won't be your suicide weapon."

"What? No, I said 'infect', not 'consume'!"

Slight confusion rippled across Alex's face.

Desmond broke eye contact and looked at the floor. "You **can** do it, right? Make me... like you?"

Alex couldn't find words.

"If I was... a Prototype," Desmond pronounced the word shakily, not having ever said it aloud before, "then... I wouldn't have to deal with periods, or binders, or crap-ass black-market T, or any of that shit." He glanced up briefly. "I could just, y'know. Shapeshift into a real man."

"A real man," Alex echoed darkly. He let go, stepped back and shook his head. "No. A monster, wearing a disguise."

"I wear a fucking disguise every day already!" Desmond said through a scowl. "At least the Blacklight disguise would be way easier!"

Alex shook his head again. "You don't want to be a freak like me."

"I'd rather be a freak like you than the freak I am now!" Desmond snapped back. "I'd rather be a damn virus than this!" He threw himself down on the bed.

"Desmond," Alex said calmly.

Desmond ignored the name; it wasn't really his anyway. "Know what? Sometimes I think about defecting. Going over to Abstergo."

Alex came to stand next to the bed. "Why."

Desmond sniffled noisily. "Isn't it obvious? They've got all the doctors, all the drugs. They could fix me right up with my dream body. Hell, with all the DNA research shit they're into, I bet they might even have a way to rewrite my genes and make me actually male!"

"Fuck your genes, Des," Alex said.

Desmond just grumbled into his pillow.

"Genes don't determine shit."

"They do too, asshole," Desmond said, sitting back up and wiping his eyes again. "Genes determine **everything** , even **I** know that, and I haven't absorbed the brains of a dozen Gentek scientists."

"Look at me." Alex sat down beside him. "Every chromosome of the Blacklight virus was engineered to be a weapon."

"And that's what you are," Desmond sobbed. "You don't like it but that's what you are. Just like me, I'm a gir-" Alex stopped him with a soft finger to his lips.

"I've overcome that, though. Now I'm only a weapon when I want to be."

"Well I sure wish I could be a girl only when I wanna be, which is **never** , but that ain't happening while I'm human!"

Alex tried a different tack. "Am I a weapon to you, Desmond? Like a gun, or a bomb?"

"You're an asshole who won't help his best friend. Infect me, dammit!" In a last-ditch attempt to get some Blacklight inside him, Desmond tried to bite down on Alex's finger.

But Alex pulled his hand away lightning-fast. "Exactly," he grinned.

"Exactly **what** , asshole?"

"I'm a friend. You can't be friends with a gun or a bomb, but you're friends with me."

Desmond frowned furiously. "You're kind of ignoring my issue here."

Alex tapped his head. "I developed a mind. That wasn't part of what Gentek engineered."

"Goddammit Alex, you're seriously not listeni-"

"I make my own life, Desmond. My body's not ideal, but-"

"Sure it's ideal!" Desmond cut in. "You can bench-press a tank, you can jump five stories high, you can climb like a motherfucker-"

"I can't swim. I can't enjoy a fine wine. I can't... lots of things." Alex put an arm around Desmond's shoulders. "But I **live** , Desmond. I live as myself, even though it's hard."

Desmond shoved him away. "Yeah, your life is so fucking hard, boo-hoo."

"Your mind doesn't match your genes either. But if you become a Prototype, you'll lose that mind. Total amnesia. And if you go to Abstergo, you'll lose your life. They'll shoot you on sight."

"So what do you suggest, asshole? What the hell do I do to 'live as myself'?"

"Hm." Alex tilted his head back and inspected the ceiling silently for a few moments, then looked at Desmond again. "What, body-wise, is frustrating you most?"

"Right now? My fucking chest." Desmond pulled at one strap of his ill-fitting binder. "Chafing and sweating and all that fun stuff. And summer's gonna be a nightmare this year. It was already ninety degrees out today."

"Hm." Alex stared into the distance, contemplating.

Desmond flopped back down on the bed. "Wish I could swap with Becca's A-cups. She barely has to wear anything! Lucky bitch."

"Perhaps Ragland might know of a surgeon who doesn't have ties to our enemies."

Desmond's eyes popped open and he grabbed Alex excitably. "You mean I could get 'em removed?! Without going over to the Dark Side!?"

"...Possibly."

Desmond jumped up and pumped a fist in the air. "Awesome! I can't fucking wait!" He shot Alex a mile-wide grin. "You're the best, man."

"It's not a sure thing. That's a specialized procedure. Not just any surgeon could do it."

"But you'll for sure ask the doc to put out feelers for the right type of surgeon?"

Alex nodded.

Desmond suddenly realized the words he'd just said, and a snort of laughter escaped him. "Oh god. Put out feelers." He collapsed against Alex. "Put out... ah ha ha!"

"I don't get- Oh. Heh."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus dialogue I thought of but couldn't fit in:
> 
> "I'm not a real man."
> 
> "You sure look like one! You even have a cock! Hell, you could have a **hundred** cocks if you wanted!"
> 
> "That... wouldn't be practical."


	2. Chapter 2

Desmond's eyes flew open in the dark as he awoke with his chest in familiar agony. "Ow!"

"You're still in pain?" came Alex's voice from beside him.

"Yeah, that's why I'm saying 'Ow'. Jesus fucking ow." Desmond fumbled on the nightstand until the lamp clicked on, then dug in the drawer for Vicodin and swallowed one dry. "Shit, man. This recovery period is twenty times worse than a menstrual period. And lasts way the fuck longer, too."

Alex was silent.

Desmond lay back down and twined his arm around Alex's. "Don't get me wrong, though. I appreciate what you did."

Alex was silent.

"I really, **really** appreciate it." Desmond gripped Alex's hand tightly, hoping this would help convey the intensity of his thanks. "I mean, right now it's tough, but once I'm all healed and shit-"

"I didn't realize it would take this long," Alex interrupted quietly.

Desmond cracked a smile. "What, you forgot us humans can't heal up instantly like you?"

"But it's been weeks, and you're still in pain, and you still have to wear that," Alex gestured to the chest dressings. "Isn't it even more uncomfortable than a bra or binder?"

"Well, psychologically, it's more bearable. Since, y'know, the two big honkin' girly fatbags are finally gone. And at least I'm done with those drainy thingies. That shit was nasty. Like having a period outta my nipples!"

Alex was silent.

"Uh. Sorry, was that too gross?"

Ignoring the question, Alex sat up and looked coldly at the pill bottle on the bedside table. "You don't have a lot of Vicodin left."

Desmond gulped. "Well, uh... I guess I've been hitting them kinda hard."

"Is the pain that bad?"

"Well... sometimes, yeah."

Alex chucked the bottle away. It hit the wall and bounced off with a noise like a shaken maraca.

Desmond barely got out a sputtering "Dude, what the?!" before he was interrupted again.

"You shouldn't rely on drugs."

With a huge eyeroll, Desmond said, "You got any other suggestions, smart guy?"

Alex was silent, but this time he had one of those looks: the kind Desmond had learned meant he was considering and analyzing a situation at hand.

Speaking of hands, at just that moment Desmond felt the one he was holding unentwine from between his fingers. It slid out of his grasp, turning to tendrils that licked smoothly up his arm and then across his collarbone. The biomass felt refreshingly alive, warm in the otherwise cool stillness of the room's air.

"Smart guy?" Desmond repeated to draw attention to the unanswered question.

"There's strong evidence," Alex said, unforming his shirt, "that the sensations of pain and pleasure reside in the same parts of the human brain."

"Uhhhhh?" The sound was long, wavering up and down. "You mean you wanna... like..." Desmond pointed one finger back and forth between the two of them.

"That's my suggestion, yes. To override the painful stimuli with pleasurable ones."

The car engine in Desmond's chest sputtered and died for a moment. He coughed, grabbing the ropey Blacklight for support as the key turned back on, pistons whirring up to speed again. "Wow, uh. This is..." He swallowed. _Keep it together, man. Don't wanna give him the wrong idea._

In truth, Desmond had wondered for a while if their relationship would ever take a turn down Sexual Street. He'd never been brave enough to broach the subject, but he definitely wasn't opposed to the concept: virus or not, Alex was indeed a pretty nice specimen, and they did share a certain chemistry together. If he were really Denise- if he wasn't cursed with this stupid gender identity thing- they probably would have already done the deed a few times by now.

But he wasn't Denise; he hadn't even been old enough to do the deed when he'd come out and declared himself Desmond. And now with the D-cups newly gone, Denise felt even farther away in the past than Ezio.

His chest wasn't the most salient issue right now, though. Desmond's brain, having just now got over the fact that Alex was suggesting this, was currently trying to figure out how the hell "this" would work.

Meanwhile, Alex had noted the faint flush to Desmond's cheeks and taken that as license to start tugging the waistband of his cargo shorts down.

Desmond's body squirmed automatically at the friction of elastic between buttcheek and bed, and his sore chest protested the movement. "Ow."

Immediately Alex stopped, retracting all hands and tendrils. "Sorry."

"You're fine, you didn't hurt me," Desmond laughed, though laughing was uncomfortable too. "But, uh, as you can see, I'm not exactly in peak physical shape for getting my frick frack on."

"You don't need to move. You don't need to do anything."

Desmond scrunched his eyebrows. "What, are you saying I should just lie back and think of England?"

"Lie back, yes." Alex waited a beat before adding, "You can think of whatever the hell you want."

"And what are you gonna do?"

"Well... the human bo... your body... it..." Now this was a rare occasion; Alex hardly ever stumbled over his words. He growled, closed his eyes, and started anew. "In your anatomy, the primary organ of pleasure is the clitoris."

"Geesh!" Desmond covered his face with his hands.

"Correct?"

"Ugh. Yeah, I guess." Desmond peeked out and saw Alex looking at him inquisitively. "So you, uh... you're gonna touch me down there."

"If you're okay with that."

"I guess," Desmond said again, taking his hands away from his still-hot face. "But please stop with the anatomy talk. And no penetration, you got it? Absolutely not allowed."

Alex smiled softly. "I only want to take away your pain, not your virginity."

"Hey, what makes you think I'm a virgin?"

"You're not?"

Desmond smirked. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Alex stared at him.

There was an awkward silence. "Um. So..." Desmond tapped his partially peeled-down shorts. "...you gonna do this or what?"

Alex stared a bit longer. Desmond was acutely aware of how loud his own breath was as it went in and out of his mouth, and he was about to say something when Alex spoke again.

"All right. Here goes." The virus-man started pulling Desmond's shorts down in tiny tiny increments, pausing every now and then to look into his eyes and assess his comfort level.

"The fucking suspense is killing me here," Desmond said after two minutes of this. He wiggled his hips to get his shorts and underwear completely off and kicked them away. "Just go. I'll say something if I don't like what you're doing."


	3. Chapter 3

Alex was crouched shirtless beside the bed, one hand lightly resting on Desmond's forearm. He slowly ran his other hand down Desmond's stomach, gently treading into the short hairs.

Heart thudding, breaths heavy, Desmond clenched his eyes shut, not knowing how to feel or what to do. Anxiety and anticipation mixed within him; this situation had the potential to turn out really well, or to end in relationship-ruining disaster. Did Alex- a being bred for terror- even have the capacity to touch someone lovingly? And that issue aside... Desmond didn't even touch himself down there all that often, it was so dysphoria-inducing. Sometimes he thought surely that was proof he really was a girl, inside as well as outside, because weren't guys supposed to have this constant need to masturbate?

Alex was unaware of Desmond's troubled thoughts, but he certainly felt the increasing tension in his body. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"M'fine," Desmond managed to say through tight lips.

Alex pulled his hand a fraction up, breaking contact with Desmond's tummy. "Are you really 'fine'?"

 _I'm scared._ "Well... as fine as I ever am, considering the whole... fucked-up body thing." Desmond did his best to put on a smile.

Alex looked him over, making a low deep sound like the thrum of an idle motorcycle two blocks over. "Your body is strong. Functional." He stroked Desmond's arm again, ran a thumb right up and down the inside of his elbow. "Not 'fucked-up'."

Was this the ever-unconventional Alex's way of complimenting him? Saying he looked good? Desmond felt an odd warmth start to bubble inside him, and for a moment wondered if Blacklight's heat vision would sense it. "Th- thanks? It's still a girl's body, though-"

"It's **your** body, Desmond," Alex interrupted. "You are not a girl."

Desmond smiled, genuinely this time. Too soon, though, another spur of pain rippled across his chest and it turned to a grimace. "Ahh... mother **fucker**." He'd nearly forgotten the whole reason they were doing this. "A-alex? You were gonna take away my pain, right?"

"Right." Alex returned his attention to where it had been before, trailing down from Desmond's navel, forking over to his inner thigh, inciting shallow panting breaths. He tested the sensitivity of each square inch of skin, lingering in lazy swirls until that spot was fully explored before moving inward to a fresh one.

Eventually he was no longer crouched beside the bed, but sitting upon it, leaning in close to Desmond's pulsing heat. For the time being, he did not transform his hands and use their full tentacular capacity. This was an emotionally charged situation, and he reckoned things would be a lot less stressful for Desmond with only the familiar feel of fingers.

Those fingers were drawing closer and closer to the epicenter. When they brushed through a particular square of hair low on the mons pubis, Desmond exhaled a soft gasp and hooked his arm tight around Alex's waist.

Alex took that as signal to move on from the adjacent erogenous zones to the clitoris itself. "Here we go," he forewarned.

"Ookay," Desmond squeaked, and this time he only felt half-embarrassed about how "feminine" he'd accidentally sounded.

Alex rubbed his right hand on Desmond's arm again. "Here we go." He shifted his left hand lower and flicked over the tender nubbin.

Desmond's legs jolted in a brief spasm. "Ahh, dammit," he whined.

Alex tilted his head up to try and gauge Desmond's expression. "You don't like it?"

"No, i- it's-" Desmond's breath caught for a moment. "I wish you were..."

Alex stroked the side of his face, looked into his watery eyes. "Wish I was what."

"Doing that to my cock."

"I would if you had one," Alex replied, fluid and straightforward, without a trace of snark.

"But I don't." Desmond squirmed his legs shut.

Alex sat up and frowned at the wall.

Desmond exhaled glumly. "Sorry. I'm... I mean, you just did this chest thing for me, and now I already..." He touched Alex's hand. "Sorry."

Alex picked up his other hand, forming the fingertips into little blades and examining them. "It's probably beyond my ability to do any decent sort of phalloplasty," he said after a few moments.

Desmond managed a weak laugh. "I'm not asking you to. I've read about that shit; it sounds fucking terrifying. They carve a piece outta your arm, for chrissake! Who the fuck wants an arm-cock?" He sat up carefully, sore under the tight bandages he couldn't wait to be allowed to take off. "Look, Alex. Yeah, it'd be hella cool if your Blacklight powers could give me a cock, but I'm not really antsing to have any more surgery after this."

"Blacklight powers," Alex repeated slowly.

Desmond tilted his head. "You've got that loooook in your eeeeeye."

Alex faced him with a small uncertain smile. "Let me try something."

"Woah, oh no!" Desmond pushed away, and Alex fell right off the edge of the bed. "What did I just fuckin' say?"

"Grrgh." Alex pulled his claws out from the floor, formed them back into fingers, and slithered back up to look at him again. "Not surgery. Just something temporary. Between us."

Desmond flinched at the feel of something on his crotch again, and looked down to see tendrils massing. "What the- what are you- Ah!" Electric impulses ran through him again, and he clenched his jaw, fighting back a cry.

Alex gently laid him down on the pillow, murmuring softly, so soft the words weren't discernible.

"Wha... what?" Desmond asked again, breathless, his eyes wandering.

Alex's face was set in concentration, and his mouth barely moved as he answered. "I'm trying to... connect your nerves... to myself."

"You... connect?" Desmond could barely talk, his system was so frazzled, overloaded with stimulation. "Is... is that safe? You won't consume me?"

"You won't be consumed. You will feel... what a portion of my body feels." Alex's smile was hardly visible in the dim room. "Like so."

"Ah!" Desmond's nails dug into the sheets. Something was stroking him, firm fingers moving ever so perfectly along... along... _what, exactly?_ He lifted his head to try and see what the fuck was going on down there. "Ho-oly shit." He gaped in stupefaction.

There it was, an anatomically-correct (albeit strangely-colored) penis, affixed right smack dab atop his actual junk. From the base, a small trail of tendrils snaked back, connecting the biomass boner to Alex's torso.

"Oh god, Alex..."

The virus-man grinned as he jerked off his handiwork. "Does it feel real, Desmond?"

"It... feels... **awesome**!" Desmond's body vibrated with delight; not just sexual pleasure, but also the incredible awe that Alex could do something like this, and was doing it for **him**. "Alex, I lo- I love this!"

"Pretty, unh, nice on-nnh my end as well," Alex said through tight little grunts.

Desmond was blown away by the exquisite friction of Alex's fingers sliding over his cock, oh god, **his cock**. He had a cock. Even if just for a few minutes, even if really technically it was Alex's, still it was a little (big throbbing intense) slice of heaven.

The pain of his healing chest was long since washed away. And it was washed away even more when Alex bent over and took the head into his mouth.

It was as if lightning arced down through the biomass and into Desmond's core. Involuntarily, his butt lifted off the bed for a second, thrusting up into Alex. "Fucking... yes! Ohhh..." There it was, that full-body sensation of total release that Desmond experienced far too rarely. His legs jittered and he clutched Alex tight, holding him firmly by the hair.

"Are you orgasming?" Alex asked, though his mouth was full of cock so it sounded more like "Ahhfoo oam-mh?"

Desmond was breathless, voiceless, nearly brainless as he writhed in place.

Alex took that as an affirmative. He himself was finding it difficult to fashion words right now too. This "sex" thing wasn't quite the same as what he'd seen in [his limited research](http://askcutiedesmondandhotalex.tumblr.com/post/119236419443/i-guess-he-was-somewhat-involved), but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

With a final gasp, Desmond came down from the peak and back to earth. "Oh god, Alex. That was..."

Alex took the cock from his mouth and finished with, "Good."

Desmond took a deep, soul-filling breath. "Not just 'good'. That was... the best it's ever been for me."

"Hm." Alex ruminated on this a moment. "Brace yourself, I'm going to detach."

"Aw, what?" Desmond clutched at his newly borrowed cock. "Can't you just leave it there?"

"I can't leave myself attached to you permanently, Des," Alex huffed. "Especially not like this."

Desmond reluctantly let go. "Right. I guess it would get a little weird, people asking 'Hey Desmond, why ya got Alex walking around behind ya with tentacles leading from him to your pants?'"

"...I was thinking more along the lines of adverse health effects, but whatever. Brace yourself."

There was a little carpet-shock-like sensation when the viral tendrils unhooked from the nerve endings, and Desmond let out a weak "Ah!"

"Sorry."

"It's no big."

"Hrm." A siren wailed past in the distance. "...Speaking of 'big', was the size acceptable to you?"

"Size?" Desmond laughed. "I wasn't exactly paying attention to details like that, man!"

"Hm. Understandable." Alex looked away, over to the opposite wall. He noticed the Vicodin bottle still lying on the floor, and retrieved it back to the bedside table with a long tendril before looking back at Desmond. "So..."

Desmond heard the curious tone in his voice, and gestured for him to continue.

" **Are** you a virgin?"

"Well...." Desmond shrugged. "It depends. Do genetic memories count?"

"Ugh. Of course not." Alex smacked him upside the head. "Fucking asshole."

"Woah man, not tonight. Maybe next time." Desmond rubbed the sore spot on his head, laughing again.


End file.
